


Wake Up My Body

by nwspaprtaxis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Burns, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Possible Self-Insert, Scars, Trust Issues, Undefined Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-26
Updated: 2010-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nwspaprtaxis/pseuds/nwspaprtaxis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Winchester finds himself in a warm, safe place and he's not really inclined to moving anytime soon... NOT WINCEST.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up My Body

**Author's Note:**

> **_A/N:_** I intended this to be able to read as though as it was Sam OR Dean (reader's choice - AND NOT WINCEST) and an OFC/SELF-INSERT. BUT if that doesn't work for you or that sort of thing doesn't float your boat, it can be read as Dean/OFC or Sam/OFC. As always, a kazillion thanks and a huge smish to my wickedly fantastic Beta, **mad_server** for the endless support and editing. 
> 
> **_Disclaimer:_** Do not own. Am not making a profit. Just simply having fun with their psyches and returning them slightly more battered to Kripke and Co. and all that Yada Yada. Additionally, the title and the epigraph comes from _As Long As You're Mine_ from the musical _Wicked_ \- which I don't own either.

_I’ll wake up my body_  
_And make up for lost time…_  
~WICKED “As Long as You’re Mine”

**::: ::: :::**

She caresses the back of his neck, fingers stroking the hair there, the soothing motion keeping him languid. He doesn't want to move, his head pillowed on her shoulder, tucked under her chin, encircled within her arms. Her firm, round breasts rise and fall gently with each breath. He cups one of them in his palm, rubs it with his thumb, and gets the sense she isn't up to rising anytime soon either. He allows himself to be lulled, to accept human touch, relishing the contact of her naked body against his. To feel safe, loved. To drift for a moment into the land of what-might-have-been. It's been ages since he's been this relaxed, this satiated, this content.

Her hand trails down his nape, skimming lightly over his shoulder blade, settling on his upper arm. The other's pressed against his ribs, centimeters from a large bruise spanning his side.

He hisses, breath hitching sharply when her thumb grazes the raw, still-healing injury on his bicep. She freezes, turns her face — wide, innocent eyes meeting his heavy-lidded ones. A strand of hair, curly with moisture, sticks to her still-flushed cheekbone.

Raising herself on one elbow, she glimpses a livid mark just below his shoulder. It's recent, the short gash barely scabbed-over and the beginnings of an infection is starting to show. The angry-red skin looks tight and puffy, almost shiny. "What happened?" she asks, concerned, peering more closely. She isn't sure if the slickness is from the severity of the wound or because triple antibiotic cream had been smeared on it at one time.

"'S nothing. Jus' a burn," his voice rasps, sleepy against her clavicle. "'S fine." His words sound worn, automatic.

"It looks nasty, though. Is it from your job?" She sinks back onto the pillows, relaxing despite herself as he tucks himself around her once again, curving his hand—huge, calloused, gentle—on her hip, palm pressing slightly at the bone there as he rests the side of his face on her shoulder.

A nod, the rough beginnings of a beard rubbing abrasively against her skin.

"Why won't you ever talk about it?"

"'S complicated. 'Sides, you'd think I'm insane if I told you half of it." He stiffens, muscles tensing with apprehension.

She squirms from underneath his lead weight, twists until she's hovering over him. Taking his face between both hands, she leans forward and kisses him on the lips, tenderly, chastely. Pulling away, she sees the disappointment swirl briefly in his hazel eyes before dissipating. Grinning, she dips again, this time kissing deeply, sensually, passionately, sucking slightly on his lower lip.

Pushing herself off him, she gazes into his face, memorizing the lines of joy and pain, trying to begin to comprehend the complicated man before her. He reaches up, brushing her bare shoulder with rough fingers, offering her additional support as she braces herself up one handedly. Exhaling slowly, she places her free palm in the center of his chest. "Try me."

And he does.


End file.
